Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. I do wish you could come and dine with us some evening. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots.
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